I started this blog as a private place to collect my Facebook posts and thoughts, regarding Abigail, in one place. I have since changed it to a public blog in hopes that somewhere, sometime my words will help someone. In the vein of journaling, this post is a copy of a response that I wrote on a message board that I participate in. The original question was “how has your baby’s death changed you?” and the following was my answer.

Do you remember when you were a kid and went through a phase where you were convinced that there was a monster lurking behind everything, but never found it? That’s how grief feels to me … there is a monster lurking all around me and I keep watching for it to rear it’s hurtful head, but it doesn’t come out when I expect it would. Instead it jumps out, right in front of me, catching me completely off-guard. It doesn’t always come out when I see a baby girl that is close to Abigail’s age. But almost every time one of my boys cry, the thought that if she could have only had lungs to cry like that rushes through my mind. It doesn’t often rear it’s head when I walk past the baby section in a store. But in simple moments like grocery shopping, the reminder that I’m not adding little diapers, bottle liners or baby wash to my cart causes tears to come.

On Tuesday night, I was having a rough time. I tearfully complained to my husband that I was tired of being a shadow of myself. Of being the person who cries in public. Of being irrational about things I would typically view very rationally. Of having good days followed, for no apparent reason, by a bad day that leaves me feeling confused and vulnerable and makes decision making difficult. I was tired of grieving. He was gracious and reminded me that grief takes time.

We came home and I sat down with a crochet project that I knew wasn’t working as well as it could have. But I had all ready taken it out 3 times and I was loath to do that again. So I determinedly kept going. As I worked, I could hear my mother’s words in my mind, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” Finally I listened to those words of wisdom and took it all out. I then started again and that time, it was exactly as it should be.

I fell in love with the variegated yarn that I used in this blanket and couldn’t find the perfect pattern to complement it. I decided to try my own combination of colors and pattern. Using a basic double crochet stitch and the color changes to create visual interest, I got to work. As the blanket took shape, I loved the transition of the colors. The deep navy creates such jarring stripes of darkness, but it makes the brilliance of the turquoise even more vivid. Rather like the darkness of the grief in my heart makes the beautiful moments even more alive. More precious. More recognized. The plum feels like the everyday moments … rather unobtrusive, but needed. And then that variegated colorway makes my heart sing. I love the mixture of the dark and light with a bit of brightness. And finally, the white reminds me of the pureness of the One who has carried me over the past months. Of my Savior. Of my Christ.